PSOH 'Little Words'
by tigersilver
Summary: A collection of ancient drabbles for your delectation.


**PSOH 'Little Words'**

_A collection of ancient drabbles, written for challenges and such._

* * *

**PSOH 'Plate Up My Heart For Serving'**

Shame-faced and red of cheeks, Detective Orcot slid the Sunday-comics-wrapped brown cardboard box on to the edge of the low table and immediately turned to talk to his little brother Chris.

"How's it going, buddy?" Maybe he was kind of too enthusiastic with his question, but...hey. It wasn't every damned day he did something like this, was it? "Did you enjoy that party?"

_It was great, big brother! I got to play the piano!_ Christopher beamed up at him, from where he was curled up, colouring away at some sketch pad or other the Count had bought him.

Speaking of Counts, the only one in Leon's life eyed the messily wrapped package with some small amount of wariness. He seemed to be visually poking at it, for fear it might bite.

"Is this a present, Detective? For me?" The Count's voice was a supercilious, arch, far too-saccherine thing and Leon deliberately didn't look at him. "How...sweet. And how unexpected. Thank you."

"Something I picked up at a yard sale, Count," Leon growled, deep in avoidance tactics. "No biggie."

Count D sniffed, elevating that nose of his.

"A yard sale? What were you doing at one of those, I wonder. Oh...is that perhaps where you purchase your wardrobe, Detective?" A mocking titter set Leon's teeth on edge; he ignored his sudden urge to turn around and punch that face, black those eyes.

"_Hey_!"

"Hmm."

D reached out and took up the box, though. Leon breathed a sigh of satisfaction: curiousity, that's what always got to D, wasn't it? Asshole couldn't leave things well enough alone, no, he couldn't.

The Count unwrapped it with a rustle, slitting the tape with one long elegant nail. He pried the edges of cardboard open and gently slid out the first of a set of four floral plates, cabbage rose-patterned, gold-rimmed, and distinctly Victorian. His red mouth opened in a silent "Ohh!"

"Yeah, well. Like 'em?"

He'd effing well better, because now Leon was dead flat broke till Friday.

* * *

**PSOH Drabble #203 "Money"**

Caberet

_"Money makes the world go around,  
the world go around, the world go around,  
Money makes the world go around,  
it makes the world go round._

_A mark, a yen, a buck or a pound,  
a buck or a pound, a buck or a pound,  
Is all that makes the world go around,  
that clinking clanking sound,  
Can make the world go round."_

Joel Grey cavorted in his vampish eyeshadow. Leon checked out Liza's dress. It really fit her well; it was probably really expensive, all those sequins. Then he checked out the Count, sitting cool as a king in the lap of shabby luxury that was his parlour, all decked out in tissue silk and velvet bands at wrist and collar.

"Is that how it works for you, Count?" Money, huh? Made the world go round, yeah. All this luxury had to be paid for, somehow. He didn't think that antique D was lapping up his blasted sissy-ass tea from had just been lying around for the taking. He didn't think the furniture in D's parlour had been dumped at the local thrift shop, either. "You take all their dollars and give them nothing much in return? A dream, maybe? What's a dream worth, anyway?"

D smiled at him, eyes direct and dazzling over the rim of his cup.

"Oh, no. Only for the ones I don't care for, Detective. You're hardly in that category, are you?"

Leon coughed to hide his grin, especially when the Count rose from his seat and set his tea aside with a decided air of purpose.

He went so far as to choke a little when the Count crossed the room and got an awful lot closer to where he was sitting.

...Somehow, it seemed all the D's riches maybe weren't totally undeserved, after all.

And, shit, but Leon did have to admit he sort of liked the feel of silk, when it was cast tight as a second skin over a man's warm body and clingy like that.

* * *

**PSOH Challenge #204: Painkiller**

_Why_? Why did his idiot detective always end up like this? He was so tired of wasting time worrying; tired of anticipating, arranging, watching over till at last the stupid American was back on his feet again.

It was far too hard on Christopher.

He wished Leon would think _first_ for once, take better care of himself. If he would only stop barreling forward, a bull in a china shop, then perhaps the pain in D's chest would cease. There'd be no need for these stupid beeping machines that got in his way and the ugly smell of antiseptic that clung to his skin.

Hospitals, _feh_.

_…Too hard. _

* * *

**PSOH 'Reverie'**

All the times I've told you…

I told you the first time when we walked home from the Museum. I could not let you go. Do you know how frightening that was?

I told you when Alex came and I could not bear his arms around me because I only wanted yours. Always, I will only want you. Please don't push me away.

I told you at the hospital, when I thought I'd lose you no matter how hard I tried. I had already wiped my tears away when you woke. Didn't you see the tracks? What were thinking, leaving me like that?

I told you when Chris came and you dropped him in my lap. I wanted him there, because you'd have more reasons to visit. Did you know that I was that selfish, Detective?

I told you when we were kidnapped and there was a gun at your head. I screamed it silently and only the jaguar heard. My heart was fluttering and I could barely think how to save you. I hated the wounds on your wrists and that girl that you lived with. I had wanted to be the only one.

I told you with every cup of tea, every smile, every look. I was always surprised that you didn't believe it. Is it so impossible?

I told you just before I left, but you did not hear me in your anger and your hurry.

And again, when you were bleeding to death before me and I hated you because I loved you so.

And again, when we leapt, your hand in mine.

I will always tell you, Leon. I speak, if you but listen. Listen for my little words on the wind, in the dapple of sunlight and voice of the birds. Look at my face, Detective, and see what shines there, hidden and silent. In your dreams, in my smile, there is infinite love. It will wrap around you and guide you, till you find me once more.

Then it will be your turn to tell me. I'll listen with all my heart, this time.


End file.
